


even when you're a fool

by imaginarybarista



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, harry cooks dinner and cleans up and louis wants to thank him, he'll come up with some way eventually, if there is fluffy smut then this is it, if you can call the smut i write porn idk, still manages to be the one thanking harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarybarista/pseuds/imaginarybarista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I guess I could watch tv with you, even if I must put up with attempts to kiss me.” <br/>---<br/>or: perfect boyfriend material harry proves once again... that he's the perfect boyfriend. <br/>[prequel to filthy apron sex]</p>
            </blockquote>





	even when you're a fool

**Author's Note:**

> I had a discussion with bottombunklouis about Harry cooking Thanksgiving dinner, and Louis wanting to thank him for it by baking a pie. Needless to say the pie isn't going to be baked, and Louis ends up figuring out ways to distract Harry from the store-bought pie in the oven. 
> 
> (It involves naked Louis under an apron.)  
> But before I write that sure to be dirty smutty fic, I needed a sweeter fluffier smut first. So this is what happens first :) Yay prequels

“Thanks for dinner,” Louis sing songs as he carries his plate to the counter. He sets it down and then turns around, leaning on the counter, not bothering to put the plate in the dishwasher. Carrying it into the kitchen is enough.

 

“Welcome, baby,” Harry says with a peck as he leans over the dishwasher and opens it. He puts his own plate in before reaching up for Lou’s.

 

Louis doesn’t bother pretending that he isn’t staring. It’s not a particularly special occasion, but his fit boyfriend’s just made him dinner and it can only be hoped for that he’ll stay the night. Haz has been busy as of late, and this dinner was meant to make up for a cancelled date or two, and Louis... he tries not to believe that there are expectations or whatnot, but there are. (Nice boys cook you dinner in your flat and clean up and plan on gifting you with orgasms later... These same nice boys can’t be expected to just tuck in and go home at the end of the night without a little gift of their own.)

 

Harry looks up and smirks when he makes eye contact with Louis. “Did you like it?” Suddenly the smirk is replaced with shyness, with perhaps an undercurrent of fishing.

 

“Course, Hazza. C’mere.” Louis reaches out for Harry’s belt loops and pulls him close, plants a kiss with a smack on his lips. “Whatever you give me is always excellent.” He doesn’t miss Harry’s blush on the back of his neck when he picks up on the innuendo.

 

“D’you want to sit on the couch and digest and then maybe make out with me, all under the guise of watching tv together?” Louis offers, eyebrow raised.

 

“I guess I could watch tv with you, even if I must put up with attempts to kiss me.”

 

Louis draws back and releases Harry’s waist, turning to get to the sitting room.

 

“Well if that’s how you feel Harold, I will just sit on this side of the couch. I’ll keep my grabby hands all to myself. Won’t kiss you, won’t even look at you.” His arms are folded over his chest and he’s making a point to sit primly, focused on the tv and ankles crossed. He’s sitting pressed into the left armrest, because Harry’s got one knee up on the right, half standing.

 

He’s trying not to laugh because the whole stubborn, playful attitude is just so easy to slip into when he’s with Harry. When he’s alone, he’s... he’s not bored, but he’s different. Quiet. Reserved. It’s not like he has multiple personalities, like a switch turned when he encounters a fit boy who he wants to flirt with, but rather his personality blossoms into full bloom like Harry is his sun.

 

He’s lost in his concentration of keeping a straight face and lets out an oomph as Harry collides with him, who has leapt onto the couch and is now looping his arms around Louis and tugging him close. Louis lets out his giggles now as Harry tickles his sides and leans back so Louis is straddling him, their lips close and then closer and then...

 

Harry squeezes Louis’s biceps as his tongue peeps into Louis’s mouth, which is open because Louis can’t catch his goddamn breath.

 

It’s becoming a familiar sensation around Harry, the boy who cooks him dinner and thinks he’s funny when he’s probably just an annoying shit.

 

His giggles stop though as he gives as good as he gets, tipping Harry’s head back so he can control the kiss. Harry’s hand has drifted and cups Louis’s ass, pushing him closer to Harry so that they’re pressed tightly together at their shins, their hips, their hearts, their mouths.

 

Louis thinks he can feel Harry’s heart beating in every part of him. From the rhythm of the slight up and down movements of Harry’s hips, to the pulse in his heart pressed up against Louis’s hand, to the moan that gets lost between the two of them.

 

He doesn’t know if everybody feels like this, but he has a moment where he’s not exactly in the moment. It’s probably because this is such a familiar motion that he’s still able to pull the shirt off Harry’s elbow. Multitasking, and all that. He’s pulling Harry’s shirt off as Harry’s fingers fiddle at the button on his jeans and he’s suddenly thrown by the situation he’s in.

 

He’s got a beautiful boy who wants him, whose full attention is on him. He is special to someone. Hazza doesn’t say it every day, that would make it lose it’s meaning, but it’s not like he hasn’t told Louis as much. It’s just times like these when Louis actually believes him.

 

He’s brought back when Harry licks his hipbone. He hasn’t slid out of his jeans yet, but they’re riding low and Harry traces the band of his briefs with his tongue.

 

Louis gasps and pushes Harry away so that he can shuck the pants, pulls the briefs away while he’s at it.

 

“Heyyy,” Harry whines out. “I was gonna do that,” he tells Louis in his slow voice.

 

“Sorry,” Louis says, his voice breathy, but he’s not sorry at all. Harry doesn’t seem too upset, anyway, if the way his gaze is directed is any indication.

 

Harry darts forward quickly to kiss Louis’s hipbones again and then leans back once more, so that he’s laying down on the sofa with Louis on top of him.

 

Louis sets to work then, scoots down so he can yank at Harry’s skinny jeans and get them off. It’s no fair if he’s the only naked one, he would quite like to see Harry as well.  

 

“Yeah, like that,” Harry says quietly as Louis slips a hand under the waistband of Harry’s briefs. They’re both mostly quiet as their bodies work in tandem, moving together. They’ve had their awkward moments, in the beginning, but they’re more familiar with each other now. They still bump into each other in haste to reach, touch, kiss each other but it’s okay.

 

This is the first relationship Louis’s been in where he’s genuinely wanted to make Harry happy, to make Harry happy before he satisfies himself. It’s always been sort of an exchange-- a “you get me off, I’ll get you off” deal with other people. Where helping the other person out was a move of returning the favor. With Harry, it’s more than that. It’s wanting and choosing to kiss Harry all over. It’s not “owing” anything.

 

Louis can’t help the moan that is muffled into Harry’s neck when Harry starts pushing them up in a sitting position. Harry pulls at Louis’s legs, which wrap easily around Harry’s waist. They’re kissing passionately when Harry holds Louis’s bum in both hands and stands up.

 

Louis will never admit, but he and Harry both know that he likes this. He feels safe like this, Harry cradling him and whispering things in his ear as he pushes the bedroom door open and carries Louis through. He lets out an appreciative noise and licks Harry’s bottom lip.

 

“You like this, then?” Harry drops forward, and Louis bounces onto his back on the bed. His arms are still around Harry’s neck, and his legs around Harry’s waist, so Harry is pulled down with him. He just “mmm”s into Harry’s mouth.

 

Harry’s hands come up to bracket Lou’s face, and he lets their mouths stay inches apart as he drops down to grind against Louis. It’s so dirty, with Harry basically humping Louis as they look at each other. Louis wants to touch himself, or get a hand around Harry, but Harry’s arms prevent him from moving his own hands from Harry’s neck.

 

“Can’t touch yourself like this, can you?” Louis whines a little and attempts to wriggle his hips to get more contact from Harry, but Harry pulls back tauntingly. Louis loves it when Harry gets like this. He can be so sweet and caring and gentle but when he teases Louis, Lou can’t help but fall to bits. He’s trapped now, all laid out under Harry, who dictates just how much he gets to move and how much he’s being touched.

 

Harry chuckles and brushes a kiss over Louis’s forehead. His skin is hot to Harry’s lips, and he already has a beautiful case of Sex Hair. Harry brushes a hand over Louis’s fringe and ruffles it even more before he slides down, kissing What on Louis’s chest. Then he’s giving little kisses to Louis’s left nipple and sucking on the right.

 

“Hazzzz,” he whines. Harry looks up in surprise when Louis feebly slaps him. “Stop, too much there.” It’s really more of a tap on his cheek, and Louis doesn’t move his hand away. He’s cupping Harry’s jaw in his hand and Harry nuzzles into it.

 

“Sorry, love,” Harry whispers. Louis’s got to have the most sensitive nipples on earth, and sometimes if he’s already worked up it’s uncomfortable when they’re played with. (Except when he’s so so close, then one pinch will have him clenching up and biting his lip and throwing his head back. His hands will clench and his toes will curl, and, oh God, the noises and the things he’ll say when he isn’t fully cognitive... Harry sometimes has daydreams of these occasions and he’ll find himself getting hard wherever he happens to be.)

 

Harry reaches up and grabs Louis’s hand, kissing all the fingertips. “I’m... sorry... love... forgive... me?” He asks, saying one word after one kiss to each of his fingers.

 

“Think I could,” Louis accepts, before canting his hips up as a hint to Harry for a way to earn it.

 

Harry gives Louis a fleeting grin before he scoots down the bed to kiss Louis’s hipbones again. Louis’s thighs are one of Harry’s favorite parts about him, and Harry easily spends five minutes just running his hands all over them and kissing them and stroking his hips and thighs and abs.

 

Then Louis’s dick twitches faintly. Harry licks at the little puddle of precrum that’s dripped right next to Louis’s belly button and smiles when Louis can’t speak, just lets out a noise that sounds like nnnngh, a whimper. Harry’s actually quite proud of Louis for not coming yet, but at the same time wishes a little bit that he had. It would’ve been quite nice to let Louis come on his face.

 

He licks at Louis’s base, brushing his fingers lightly over his balls. A dragged out “Harry” comes from Louis, voice low and strangled.

 

“Impatient, love? What do you want?”

 

“Please, just...”

 

Another time, Harry might just tut and continue to kiss Louis until he couldn’t control himself anymore and let go. Today though, he’s dragged things out long enough. He noses up Louis’s cock and takes the head into his mouth. He laps up the precum that Louis has been leaking slowly and groans.

 

Louis is whimpering now, and Harry sees his hands fisted in the duvet. His knuckles are white and the tendons in his arms are stretched as Louis tries not to move his hips.

 

Harry pulls off, purposely making a wet smacking sound as he does. “I don’t care if you move, baby, do what you’d like, you deserve it, I love you,” he murmurs, and then Louis’s making strangled noises and fucking up into Harry’s mouth.

 

Harry can’t help it now and reaches down to grasp himself. He’s so hard and he hasn’t touched himself yet, but now he’s rutting against the bed and tugging at the same pace as Louis lifting his hips up and down.

 

“Almost,” Louis hisses, and it sounds like he’s begging, he’s so close, and Harry uses his left hand to place it on Louis’s chest. The touch is light enough so that Louis can still move unencumbered but the warmth of Haz’s hand, huge and spanning over where his heart beats, makes Louis feel a fast rush of love love wants me warm harry and then he’s coming silently into Harry’s mouth.

 

Harry is only half surprised when this happens and keeps Louis in his mouth throughout, after, letting him soften on his tongue. Louis’s chest is rising up and down steadily, and as his pulse races and tries to slow down, Harry lets his own building orgasm break over him and he creams the duvet.

 

They lie together, breathing hard, until Louis pulls at one of Harry’s curls for his attention. Harry looks up from where he’s laid his head on Louis’s thigh. Lou pats the pillow and Harry obliges. He gets up on tensed legs, feels the jiggly feeling of standing up after an orgasm.

 

He grabs a tissue from the side table and swipes up Lou’s abs and takes care of himself, then pulls back the duvet and slips under. Lou finally moves from his starfish position, rolling off the bed so he can get under the covers too.

 

“It’s only nine,” Harry whispers.

 

“Shut it, Hazza.” Lou says, his eyes shut. “Orgasms make me sleepy.”

 

Harry chuckles. “Whatever you say.”

 

There’s a moment of quiet, then Louis says, “Thanks for that.” He’s really quiet and he’s speaking into the comforter, but Harry catches it.

 

“For the orgasm?” His smile is evident in his voice.

 

“No, you wanker.” Louis turns over, presses his mouth into Harry’s shoulder. “For like. Dinner. And, like, the blowjob. But for...” ...Making me love you? Making me feel wanted? Making me feel fit? Loving me even if I can’t seem to pay it back, making me actually want to pay it back, making me want to make you the happiest?

 

Everything Louis doesn’t know how to put into words drops through the silence. Harry turns on his side to face Louis as well in the dim light. “I love you, baby.” The bedsheets rustle and Harry’s hand comes up to stroke the skin under Louis’s eye, over his nose, his chin, up to his fringe. He plays with Louis’s earlobe. “I like doing things for you. And I like that you want to do things for me, I get it. If you felt like you owed me something, we wouldn’t be together.” A sleepy warm smile starts to break through the little frown Lou’s wearing.

 

“You mean it?”

 

“Course I mean it, silly. Love you, I even love you when you’re a fool. I love you because you’re a worrier. Sleep, baby.”

 

And for some reason, that’s all he needs to hear before he closes his eyes again and drifts off, with Harry’s hand laying protectively over his waist and his hand spanning his back.

**Author's Note:**

> i've got a bunch of stuff in the works, all of which is listed and explained on my fic link on my tumblr (imaginarybarista.tumblr.com). Things to look for in the future: the Apron+Pie fic, a chaptered AU where Harry owns a greenhouse and talks in plant puns (and woos teacher Louis), and a kid!fic featuring Elf on the Shelf. And also a baby fic for the last thing I published. [These are all partially written, expect at least two before Christmas!] Oh, and a Sugar Daddy AU because this fandom doesn't have more than 2. (I checked.) A bajillion thanks to Emma/bottombunklouis/bundleduplou for being super-mega-nice. (I hope you didn't read this expecting sexy smut, like the tags said, this is fluffy sappy smut.)


End file.
